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English Department, Fu Jen

& the Class of 1997


Jennifer Hu (胡秀幸)

Vivian Kang (康葳葳)


      Shall We Compare Thee to a Summer's Day 
      Thou art more lovely and more temperate . . .  

      adapted from Shakespeare Sonnet 18  




Vivian Kang



Jennifer Hu

the class of 1997 and the English Department teachers


Songs from the Ocean

     (for Vivian Kang, 1975-1998) 

Ray Schulte


    She sits beside clear waves, one hand
    dipped in water, the other skipping stones. It's her,
    steeped in wonder and fun. (Come back
    across the calm water: please run
    again and jump and point
    out distant constellations, nearby suns
    and sing those songs only you know.)

    We met by the shore one morning
    when all we could see were distant
    reflections. We walked to
    the water beating, like a drummer, at
    the door. I watched her
    skip pebbles on the ocean's drum
    "I'm not ready to swim; it's dark and

    deep, too deep." (Sweet girl, please come
    home.) She strolled by the drumming
    water most of her time, gathering
    stones left out and returning them.
    She would speak,
    but the water never answered.
    She laughed like summer. She danced.

    "All I want is to watch
    the ocean unroll and tap its shore;
    I live on the music it gives me."  Sweet girl,
    what made you change your mind
    and think it wasn't too dark
    and deep?
    Come back home.

    II For her Life: Tall, Red Roses

    Steamy breath evening wraps a white
    Day, burdened. Soft sung music spurts and faints,

    Exhaling incense, in cut time,
    Over the loud thump of rampant, tumbling hearts.

    Three red rosebuds in a long stem vase
    For a short life well lived: hers, happy.

    Darkness touches the water.
    Somewhere nearby, familiar songs are sung.

    Footsteps keep pace, following
    Rose peddles fallen to the ground.

     III Floating

    The turbine lull of the ocean stops, rolls
    Then halts again with you
    Alight and rising in its blue, floating in
    Time with the breathing lull. A gentle
    Breeze stirs the pebbly water while
    You pass in bright
    Reflections of the waiting moon; the waves stop,
    Lull, stop. The dusky breeze seems unwilling
    To touch the earth, but tall palm
    Trees wave, like ripples, in the wind;
    Are they saying hello?
    Her song floats over the ocean's drum.
    Mourning doves call, like children,
    Above the lapping water.


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